


𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝕬 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝕴𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓

by LilyofTheValey



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Awesome Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Marvel Universe, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyofTheValey/pseuds/LilyofTheValey
Summary: THE WORLD had just collapsing in front of Peter Parker's life. And he did not have anyplace to return nor settle in. When his little feet starting to give up on himself as he stumbled to the wet frozen ground beneath his skin, his mind trumping in one place. The only place he could thing of as somewhere place, to give him comfort and to keep him alive.SECRETS bounded to be found. And it was found in the place where one person was struggling to keep it hidden. World was not something Peter would prefer himself to be in any better situation. When he just lost everything and no way out could provide him anything else, he run. Run, and run, and run, until his lungs gave up, and he did not know nowhere.HE KNEW ONE PLACE, tragedy was part of the Parker family. In one fine evening, Peter could still see May's face glimmering with happiness as her eyes emitting layers of diamonds and her lips forming a luscious smile at him. Then darkness came as it took away everything Peter had left. Left him alone with nothingness.
Relationships: Ben Parker & May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Bruce Banner & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. I. THE COLLAPSED WORLD

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peepps. It is my first time to ever write in here.  
> I hope you will enjoy the story.  
> This story is originally posted on my wattpad.  
> Also, english is not my main language so I really wish you can forgive me for some grammar mistakes I made.  
> Thank you very much and please enjoy
> 
> ⚠️very terrible English grammar⚠️

❝ _you cannot have him. he's bound to be_  
_with me and nothing can change it_. ❞

━━━━━━•❃•━━━━━━  
  
  
  


**PETER KNEW** the moment the elevator dinged, serving him with blinding light from the lamp that irradiate the entire room, he knew he was in a huge trouble. But he could not catch up what was going on when all he could feel about was numb all around his body and limping legs, forcing them to move.

He knew he came here for a reason, something important that he had to tell. But his mind could not operate with him to tell him what was going on as he slumped into the couch, adjusting his breath with every seconds that tickling in. The air was filled with dust, and he mostly felt like he was going through an open fire and he was strapped into something that he could not escape. Peter shut his eyes closed for a brief moment, trying to clear his vision from the blurry cloudy version of color that mingled in his head for a certain time. His breath came slower as he was trying no to and he pushed his legs up close to his chest. Feeling his rising and fall chest as he tried to suck more and deeper of oxygen around him.

Where was he? Peter did not know. It seemed to him that everything around him was spinning and he was falling into the cold ground— but the ground that was supposed to keep him grounded was gone. He was falling far and far, and his lungs could not quiet catch up the air that surrounding his entire body, burning his bone to the skull, and his eyes were puffy and red. Peter was pretty sure something was happened as he kept trying his eyes to open and for his mind to keep active and sending him a sense of signal, telling him about the danger that he urge to forget. But Peter could not move. His hands and legs were lingering to the ground, and froze to death with chain which banned him to stay where he was.

He came to notice that he was starting to hold his breath he did not know he began, as he felt the pain that rang through the skull in his head, throbbing. His ears were occupied with high pitch sound that ringing painfully through his ears. And when Peter said _painfully_ — he meant by ten times worst than an average human beings could muster. He felt as if his entire body was vibrating through a distortion, and he was yelping, as the burnt in his eyes began to reformed itself into a sting of pain and fell onto his cheeks.

Peter noticed how his small, skinny hands quivering under his grip as a sudden realization hit him like an invisible needle that stab him throughout his entire body. He was lost. He was gone, long lost in the midst of a battle. The horizon was filled with an enormous yellow color that it bathing his suit in a raging crimson color, he was stranded somewhere— in a place where he did not recognize himself, and everything became blur as his little feet gave itself to him and his knees were no longer supporting his structural bones as he fell hard to the ground.

Hard. With a loud thud.

And his heart was rapping up to the edge of it's supposedly normal. His kid was moving at thousand miles per hours, but he still could not bring himself to know where he was. He was there, sitting against a wreckage, where his head was throbbing painfully and his lips were quivering incoherent words. It seemed far away and he felt odd, strange because Peter knew it was not his sound. But he cried, he cried, and cried, and collided himself into someone as he desperately clinging himself close to them, begging and pleading.

Peter did not quiet appreciate the was his voice sounded. He already had a voice that sounded like a chirping bird in the morning, and the one that ringing in his head clearly did not appreciate the way he protested to not appear. But who he was kidding? A Parker luck strike out him like it always do.

Where was he? Now that's— that was a one hell of a good important question.

Peter did not know who he was.

Was he falling? Why would he fall? He did not know. He did not know what happen but his body kept forbidding him to move, straining him hard to the ground as his eyes moving to see what he could see. To know what was going to happen.

Peter knew this room. Right, he knew this room provided him with healthy juice and expensive food every morning, that Tony— Tony. Yeah, he came here to meet Tony. But why would he need to come and see him? As far as he remembered, they had not been in contact for two weeks after the incident with Vulture and— yeah, yeah, Vulture. That was another reason too why Peter came here in a first place. But why?

Frustrated sigh was echoing the entire room that mostly decorated with grey color as he noticed the cold and solid ground underneath his palms that Peter began to run his hand through his warm— hot, hot face as he scrambled along with his own mind. He pulled himself to the edge of the sofa, letting his back steadily feeling the softness and awareness that he was somehow still glue to the ground and no longer flying or burning.

_Wait, why was he flying? Who was burning?_

The question layering itself with another as he tried to keep himself in track with what happened. But he would always find himself in the dead end as his lips quivering with every words that trying to escape his mouth. And was his hand that hurt? Everything from the back of his mind to his left hands felt awful, like it was suddenly being abstracted out of him. And why was everything so damn wet? Why was his hair wet? Why was his pants wet? How the hell he got here in the first place?

The voice kept ringing and ringing in his head and he fell the dullness inside of his membrane cells as he tried to cover his ears to block out all the sound who tried to whisper him with murmur words that he did not believe it was coming from him, or was it from somewhere else? God, if there was someone right now in the compound, Tony would be in danger. He could not— he could not let his mentor in danger. Ah, yeah, now another words to be put into his dictionary. Where was he? Uh, Tony— right, Tony. Then. . . uh, Vulture. Yeah, yeah. What was the other words? It was barely there, and Peter just took a good grips on it but it flew away within the cold wind of November as he shoved himself closer to the soft sofa.

He was pretty sure the price for the sofa was everything in his and May's old apartment could compared on. Oh, May. _May_. Peter had not heard anything from her since the last. . . uh, how long has he been here? He could not. . . he could not stay here, May would be upset if she knew Peter sneaked out of their apartment again without telling her anything. The truth. But what was the truth again? That he was Spider-Man? How come he became Spider-Man?

"Kid?"

The word was soft, tender, and gentle. It calming Peter's heart for a brief moment before it fell into darkness and he was far from the blinding light that dimming his eyes. Peter shook his head hard, tears caressing his cheeks slowly and he began to give himself a giving up thoughts before a hand landed on his shoulders, steady, firm, and strong.

"Kid? Can you hear me?"

No. Not this voice again, please. Not him. Peter began to exhausted at the point where he did not even believe if himself was not floating or that his surroundings just a 3D printing, projecting his own mind of what he always wanted. All his life, May was the only sweetheart he would have in his life, now he did not even know where he was, and the thought of May angrily looking at him for lying again to her terrified Peter. His lungs were filled with dust and fire was raging within every rage. But his own voice was muffling through the angry water that making his senses numb.

Where was he? Where was he again?

"Kid? Kid! PETER!" this one, the steady and strong grip was followed by a shock— rather panic voice that demanding him to look closely with his two glassy eyes at whoever it was. But Peter's mind refused to serve him with a sense of focus and clear vision as his chest began to rise and fell without rhythms and his lungs were almost giving up in expanding. "Hey, look at me, here. Eyes. On. Me," the voice was demanding again. This time, it pulling Peter's chin into their direction, forcing his eyes to keep open when all Peter ever wanted was to close it just so he could rest from the burning that failing his lungs and heart.

Something inside Peter was broken, it shattered into the ground just beneath his surface. He began trembling with every fear that collided into his muscle. His heart leaving him a whole that aching painfully, hollow consuming him alive that he was gapping to let oxygen came throughout his mouth. Everything was scrambling into the massive hole, his life— May, Ned, MJ, Tony, everyone was scrambling into the gaping hole.

But his eyes were open. He knew, because he looked at something brown, something warm, something that diving him more into sanity but his mind once again refused to let him know at least what it was. He was trembling, Peter knew from the was the person squeezed his hand, he began notice how the skin was warming him, making him feel save— and whole. Everything only provided his eyes with white. It radiated and ached behind Peter's head, it gave Peter a good grief of self-awareness that he was going to die. He was going to die if he did not get a grip of himself and breathe rightfully.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, what's going on?" oh god. This person needed to chill, his voice sending Peter a terrible thought of one evening with Ben and May where the lights were off in their apartment and only loud thunder was heard throughout the entire New York. Which, Peter needed to clarify, _he hated thunder_. Then ever since he got his power, anything that came too loud, hurting his internal organs that felt like it was tearing him apart. Peter flinched at the demanding sound from the person who began to seize his arm and pulled him close to a blinding color of light blue that illuminating his half face.

He saw that person looking down at him. Panic raising in his his round brown eyes as the person was staring at him.

" _Sir, I've detected an accelerate heart rate, paresthesia, and shortness of breath_. _Peter is currently having an_ —"

"Anxiety attacks." Tony cut his AI off. He did not need her to finish her sentence, he knew too damn well all those symptoms the moment she mentioned the accelerate heart rate and the emptiness in Peter's eyes which taken aback by the shock he felt, his pupils were dilated. He gently shook Peter's body, trying to keep the kid aware with his surroundings.

But then, F.R.I.D.A.Y's Irish voice came next and irritated Tony. " _I'm sorry to interrupt, boss. But it appears that Peter also have rib fractures, lung contusion, pneumothorax, and hemothorax_. _I assume Peter just fall from a high place, and he is currently fighting off the hypothermia_."

Oh, shit. _Shitshitshitshitshit_.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, call Bruce and ask him to immediately come to the med-bay. This is urgent!"

There was not a following sound after that until F.R.I.D.A.Y noticing her excitement with a loud beep that hurting Peter's throbbing head. Hurt. It was hurt. Everything in his body was killing him, shattering him with a pain sharp of glass that piercing through his enter all organs then ate him alive.

He could feel again the steady and firm grip under his wet sticky neck and just under his knee, dragging him out from the room that collapsing before his eyes as the ceiling slowly changing their shape and colors. Peter felt himself as if he was floating again, far away from the sold ground, and nothingness was greeting him with kindness and he felt calm, and he lulled into the feeling that dragged him down to the depth of the ocean. Swirling his head with empty thought and it crumpled itself into ashes. God, it sting, the pain rang through Peter's entire body as he steadily himself under the firm grip under his ribcage.

"Tony— what?" the next sound was not comforting either. It provided Tony— now he could recall the name a slight better with a surprise look at they were staring down at him, with utmost believe but still let the billionaire carrying the half conscious teenager in his hands.

Tony pushed them out from his sight and began to walk towards the glass window, where the med-bay was located and he could tell if Bruce was already inside with all the necessary equipment they needed.

Peter felt his back now served with one soft— _really soft_ cotton, and he swam out of the grilling pit and let himself drifting far away to most places where Ben liked to bring him, to tag him along in every of his life.

The mushy, brown hair color was filling Peter's vision now, and how the stray of grey color sticking most to the side of their head as they began to move back and forth while ordering other person in white coat to do as he command. The person pulling out a syringe, then pushed the edge a bit for a drop of fluid came out, Peter flinched. He panicky trying to get away from the strange body that going to be injected to his blood. Even though he was not quiet sure what was happening, the first strong and steady grip pushed him off, gently making sure he was strapped to the soft cotton behind him.

"Hey, hey, kid. It's okay. . . look at me, okay? You're fine, Bruce will fix you. You're gonna be okay, I'm going to fix it. We are going to fix it."

It was not demanding. The voice was shushing him down, wondering along his dark thoughts and making him lost between the affection Peter did not know he would take notice. But he believed those words, as if it was very thing Peter had ever wanted in his life. To hear to voice speak to him once more, and never ceased to fail him to calm him down, ensuring him that everything— though it was hard at first, would be okay.

And Peter, for the first time since he was aware of himself, found those brown eyes staring down at him— it filled with beautiful stars that stolen from the lonely horizon sky and his mind cramped at the thoughts. He knew who this man was. He knew him too well and tears of joy was the next he knew falling hard on his cheeks.

"M'ter S'ark," Peter cried, like a baby he was, he called Tony's name within his swollen sobs as his eyes meeting the other two shooting stars that came out of an arrow of a goddess, healing the lonely and empty sky with it's luminous of beauty.

It came with a single surprise in Peter's mind that he began to questioning. But Tony pulled him against his chest, tucking him, bringing him closer to his chest as Peter felt the warm from the blinding light blue color of the arc reactor dropping against his side of face. Tears were burning his eyes as it repeating to form near his waterline. His throat slump within his hardest to try and keep his tears.

But Tony began to caressing his cheeks, slowly, with repeated rhythms which Peter began to imply as a soft melodious music in his back, while his words was murmuring— gently filling Peter's ears with so much comfort as he whispering words that too far to be catched. But Peter found himself dying slowly under the arm that circling his cold body. His now supposed to be skin that provided him with tint pink of life sign, now gone with purple-ish color and his mind was fuzzy.

Then Tony screamed, yelling someone's name. "-uce! Bruce! He isn't breathing! Bruce, the kid isn't responsive."

Peter was not sure if everything Tony said was true or he was just imagining things. He was sure he was in his old apartment, playing jenga with Ned and May's voice came a second from the kitchen of her new chicken recipe as her beautiful long brown hair loosening itself under the clip of her bobby pin. Her pink lipstick were curving out a smile Peter knew he would always remember. But darkness now surrounding him, and his heart that pumping blood wrongly began to pull him away and away from the one light he needed to take notice upon.

"Stay with me, kid. Stay with me! You can't— you can't do this to me. Look at me, you're gonna be okay. Please, just stay with me. Dammit!"

The truth was, he could not.

No matter how demanding the sound was, or how scared Peter of losing the source of the voice, he could not bring himself to open his eyes. It was too heavy, too unbearable. And he could not stay as much as his mind ordered his body to stay awake.

May. May used to be upset with him if he did not look at her when she was talking something important. And how those wrinkles beside her beautiful thin lips would crumple at him, and then Peter would pay most of his attention to her. How those eyes would twinkling with stars when they talked about their favorite shows, and how Peter would rant on and on about his day at school. It was all beautiful.

Tony's voice was too far away, demolishing away buy another power that surged him to keep falling into the darkness. It was wet, and everything was spinning. Pitch black surrounding everything and Peter could not see. He could not see what was happening and his heart shattered miles away from it's place.

The breathing of another person was blowing to his side, and the raspy voice was the last time before he was collapsing into darkness. This time, with no way out.


	2. II. THE FORGOTTEN WORD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "T'ny," his voice slowly spluttering themselves with tiny shaking breath. But the doctor did not look or sounded relief at the words that escaping his barely opened lips. Bruce looked quiet taken aback, as if the calculation in his head slowly began to pull up into once conclusion. The doctor looked back at the man— who Peter just called out as Tony. But the Tony man also did not look quiet happy by him calling him that name.
> 
> Bruce came forward, he put his hand on top of his free hand. The one that had not been attached to the tubing IV. "Sorry, can you repeat again?"
> 
> His words were swollen, and dear god— Peter was so exhausted with everything. Even his breathing becoming something tiring. "Tony," this time, it became clear. His words was sharper enough for the doctor to begin notice.
> 
> "And do you know who is he?"
> 
> Peter looked at the doctor, confused. Lost. His memories became distant.
> 
> Who was this Tony man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys with the global pandemic that is happening?  
> I hope you are all okay and safe, and healthy.  
> What do think about this chapter? To be honest, i'm not really good of giving any notes.  
> I usually just leave my story, without giving any notes🙈🙈  
> But I do hope you guys are all enjoying my story and please excuse me for some typos and grammar mistakes.  
> English is not my main language.  
> Oh and by the way, this story is not following the MCU timeline.  
> I decided that it has only been few months since the event from Civil War.  
> Bruce is not in Sakaar with Thor.

**II. THE FORGOTTEN WORD**

❝ _he doesn't know how much it will affect him._  
_but dear god, those eyes strangled him with guilt_ y. ❞

**━━━━━━•❃•━━━━━━**  
  


**WHEN PETER** woke up, he was served with a hard annoying voice beeping from the up left of his side as he glancing over the entire room. Strange, he thought to himself. He did not quiet remember where he was or _how_ in the first place he could end up in here where his head could not muster what was happening the night before.

Yes, the night before. What happened?

He adjusted himself to sit, but restrained back to his hospital bed because of the string that put on his face down to his nose, provided him with oxygen that his lungs proceed to accept. He massaged his temple, drowning in his lost thoughts as what happened before. Everything was blurry, and all Peter could remember about was the burning field, and his lungs gave up the moment before he closed his eyes. And the wet. The wet that blanketed his entire body with only grey sweater and sweatpants.

Peter looked around the entire room, it looked like hospital, but he knew deep down, he was not in a hospital. Something about this room telling him otherwise but he could not remember anything aside from the long road, dimming light through his entire trip over a building— ah, yes. Peter was trying to reach out into a building. To tell someone about something. Something important that he could not remember that began to be erased by the depths of his brain. Was it about him? No, Peter sure there was nothing wrong within him. It must have been something really important about someone or something that his mind kept repeating the same scene but he could not quiet understand what was going on.

God, he was tired. Exhausted to the bone.

He wanted to do nothing but get back to sleep, but his brain did not let him to do so. Peter kept thinking about something and the throbbing pain in the back of his mind telling him something. A part of a rebound secret that Peter needed to roam through. Scheming to the world as part of something bigger.

 _Just forget it_.

The sound inside of his head was steady, sure, and calm. It was mostly not like Peter, but he knew it was his sound, the sound that kept repeating since yesterday. _It was nothing_ , it kept saying to him but yet he did not believe himself. Why did not he believe himself? When he was him? Peter shook his head again, for billionth time that few minutes, until it made him dizzy with words that mingled in his head.

His eyes blinking rapidly to the light that served him with view, and he just realized the relief sighed coming out from his mouth when it was not _dark_ anymore. His eyes scanning the place over and over again, it came with a very luxurious looking equipment that Peter bet his entire old apartment could be compare less to everything here. A light brown sofa was put at the edge of the room, metallic table entertaining his eyes with it's elegance, a vase filled with rose filling his respiratory with luminous scent, an arm chair was put beside his bed that now empty.

Peter's mind collided within himself. Whoever could provide a place like this, Peter sure they were a very important person and Peter grateful he did not find himself strapped in an anonymous room with minimum capacity to keep him alive. Peter remembered Ben and his heroic story about one person who kept the entire city save, away from danger. That Peter always idolized the person so much that he wanted to grow up just like that person. But Ben's story became something like an old story in his mind, a history that he long forgotten but important to remember.

 _He did not like it_.

The impromptu blankness inside of his mind making him panic. He was moving restlessly on his bed as his fingers gripping the side of his bed. The sound of the beeping monitor alarming a high pitch voice that ringing painfully through his ears. A tears escape from his eyes and Peter's eyes glistening with water, and suddenly— he was back within the burning field that crushing his lungs to die. Where was he? Who he was? What happened?

Questions after question layering themselves, making Peter lost in every of them.

And God it was hurt. It was hurting him. Something crushing his chest and he barely could gaping to any oxygen, which was weird since he was provided with oxygen through his nose. Peter could only catch few dulling sound before someone came in, the glass door tested themselves open and a man with goatee came to him, panic and worry.

"-you do something to him? Please, tell me something, Bruce." his voice was muffled beneath all those yelling and snapping. Peter felt pain, everything was causing him pain and the invisible sharp needle was splitting his body half open. Peter was throwing up in the sky, within the clouds as he was falling beneath the ground and rock that greeted him.

The mushy brown haired man then coming, he was more calm and steady as the man who kept mentioning out his distress. "Tony, calm down. I need you to take a breath, okay? Just get out from here for a while, I will take care of him. I promise, he will be okay."

Ah, so the man's name was Tony. Wait, Tony.

Peter knew that name. He knew it.

But. . . why his brain refused to admitting?

Peter was gasping, he could tell his mouth was opening, through the order from his brain to get more and more oxygen as his nose failing to work. Forget how to get the air into his lungs.

He could feel the other not-Tony-man took his upper arm, and his other arm was strangled to the solid surface to keep him steady. Then a cold fluid was flowing inside of his blood. Making his brain relaxed and he slowly, carefully, putting together every missing pieces in his mind. Though it was not a whole scene like he wanted, but Peter could take the worry in Tony's eyes. It came washing over him as his hands were running carefully on top of Peter's head. Playing gently with his curly hair.

"It was just shock," Bruce came in with an ensuring smile. He looked over both Tony and Peter and wrinkled on his forehead was forming. A question marked appear in his eyes but Tony could not bring himself to notice or even take a glance at the doctor. "Tony, I don't know what happen, but I'm pretty sure the wound in his head does him a pretty serious one. If he wake up again like that again, you ought to tell me."

Bruce's voice was not demanding. The tone was calm, and encouraging Tony to stay put in his frozen place as his eyes closed shut to adjust the brightness that took most of his vision away. Bruce then patted his open shoulder, with strained oil down from his chest to almost his torso, messy hair with sticky brown hair all around the corner. He clean the unnecessary equipment and began to write something on his board.

He said, calm, reassuring, "I'm going to run him an X-Ray. You wait here for him, okay? Relax, and remember to call me immediately if that's happening again."

Tony did not answer his eyes swirling in the pit of appearance of Peter Parker. Lying with tubes on his chest, an IV bag that connecting his life— giving him extra fluid for those who had been wasting, and an oxygen tube attached to his nose. Tony never liked being touched or to touch someone, but the kid that lying in a med-bay bed, giving him a heart attack at three in the morning for suddenly appear after two weeks, looked so fragile. Even with an inch taller now, Peter looked so small and the stranded hair that dampen into his forehead, making his face cupped within the curly hair.

And he prayed.

As the beeping sound from the monitor kept making him aware with sign of life, he was praying that nothing could take this kid away from him.

Not even the God.

Not even the universe.

He never prayed before, Tony did not believe in such existence that most human believed. Though he had met one loud God, and obviously _fought one_ — causing him being threw out of the window, he still did not believe such power aside from those who he had created. He believe the universe existed because it self, and no such thing as God or someone more powerful forming an entire planets with the snap of their fingers.

But this time, Tony wanted to believe. This kid who never failed to make himself smile with his blabbering and wittiness, had became everything for him. And he would do anything to make him stay alive. As long as those rounded shape of brown staring back at him.  
  


**━━━━━━•❃•━━━━━━**  
  


**THIS TIME** , when Peter woke up, he was a little bit steady. The beeping sound from the heart monitor was no longer annoying his ears. His senses did not dialing up to protect him from prominent danger. It was just him, and the room— yet again, he still could not catching up what was happening.

He was struggling to keep his barely open eyes opening itself and looking aroun him. He was still in the same place, same strange feeling that lingering the back of his head, giving him goosebumps. But he could not give away anything. When his eyes finally landed to the arm chair beside him that supposed to be empty, now filled within another presence of a man. His head fell to the side, as his brown hair tampered against his forehead— giving out some warlocks that struggled to stay in out, his goatee somehow reminded Peter of the old history behind his memories about someone, and— by God, was his chest glowing with radiation of blue arc? Peter's gaze instantly fell into the thing on the man's chest. It was warming, calm, and making him feel save.

He reached out to the man, as his hands quivering beneath the now pink-ish color, replacing the purple one that sending him into an electric wave of shock. His pupil were rounding up and catch the glimpse of the figure that snoring soundly on the arm chair. His right hand was sustaining his head so it was not completely failing to the side, and Peter could take a glimpse of how those chest rise and failing beneath the blue lighting thing. This man— Peter knew him. Peter was supposed to know this man, and he came here for this man only.

But his lips were trembling, shaking with the reluctant words that hard to spin them off. To tell something important, yet all he managed to say was a soft murmured. Oxygen filled his lungs through the long piece of plastic rubbing that wound around his face under his nose— a nasal cannula.

"Pete. . .?" Peter started to think if he was beginning to hallucinating again as those eyes showered him with worries and— and a good glimpse of care. He moved his body towards him, and his warm breath caressing Peter's cold cheeks. Peter suddenly gone, and he was back being put under the gigantic blanket by Ben again as his uncle would put him under the lullaby he used to sing him to sleep.

His eyes were opened. Right, it was opened. But why would it refuse to send him a sharp focus long on this man as his pupils dilating back and forth by the light that came from above.

A hand warmly swarming through Peter's curly hair, starting from above, to the back of his neck. Carefully, sturdily placing Peter back into his self-consciousness. "You are good, you are okay, you are safe." Peter did not know if the words was supposed to be out for him or it was more of a statement to the man himself.

But Peter looked at him, blankly, not knowing what to say as the beeping sound from the machine in the back was pulling him out far away from being himself. He shudder, giving himself up at the touch. It felt familiar— it felt _home_. Though Peter a bit indecisive about those prompted words. This man smell nice, the scent generating Peter's memories about something that had fallen, a long time ago.

"Do you— do you remember anything? Anything that happen?" he seemed a bit reluctant in clinging to those words. He glanced over to Peter, then the loud monitor, then to the floor. Anything that could hide the painful look this man feared to serve him with.

It became slow, the man's voice filtering through the sieve in Peter's brain. Yeah, what happened really? Why he was here? He could not feel anything, he felt numb all of a sudden, by the bandage that covering his head, down to his left arm. He could not move, nor when he wanted to freely swaying. The words hovering above his head and it unbearably stammering the crook of his neck as he felt himself fading within every syllable he tried to utter.

An escape gasped began his first words, it was weird since his mouth was free from any tools that could disturb him from speaking freely, but the dryness in his throat imprisoned him to tell what was going on.

"I—" he began, cutting off by his own train of thought. He asked himself condusedly. What was happening? _Nothing's happening_. Right, he was back home with May and they just finished their first episode of TV series together as they discussed about it in the living room. With cookies and hot chocolate on top of the wooden table and the scent of lavender filling the entire room. May was laughing, and her smile was the brightest one. "May? Where's. . . May. . . she—"

The steady and firm hands pushing him back to the solid, mass bed that provided him with tenderness through his back. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Just stay still, okay? I'm going to call Bruce. He will. . . he will help you," the man was struggling to put his own words. But Peter nodded anyway, he stayed put in his bed, waiting for the man to come back with 'Bruce'— or who ever it was.

He waited for five minutes until the one who had been called Bruce came. Oh, Peter remembered this man, the mushy brown haired man with his white coat and grey strike hair. The Bruce man walked towards him, a faint smile appeared on top of his thin lips, white coat covering most top of his body with stethoscope circling his neck.

Bruce must have had been a doctor then.

He knew all those gesture because May used to put up a documentary about it. And the same man with same appearance would make himself stood out to the public eyes while explaining biologically things.

"Hello, Peter," he began, taking his little yellow bright flashlight from his pocket, then irradiating his eyes with it. "How are you feeling?"

Peter could not bring himself to answer. Instead, he was observing every movement and progressing the doctor made.

"Feeling any nauseous? Light headed? Dizziness? Do you want to vomit?" Bruce's eyes never once left Peter, and his smile reassuring him.

"Dizzy. Everything's spinning." his first words. He finally could say something without having to think he was back in the raging yellowing battle field. And the dryness in his throat slowly— slowly shifted and provided him with much fresh air and his brain could finally adjust to think sharply.

Bruce returned a brief second to the other man who was standing across him, arms folded. He looked rather hesitant with his eyes scanning over Peter.

"Oh, that's normal," the doctor said again, now pressed the metallic stethoscope on Peter's chest, hearing his stubborn heart beeping. Then it slowly going down to his stomach, the last thing he did was checking on the IV bag that hanging on the metallic ladder. Bruce then glancing over the man behind him, who was sharing a look Peter could not quiet catch. It felt as if they were doing a telepathy and the air between them were the tool to deliver each other's messages.

The doctor cleared his throat. He seemed a bit nervous as rocking back and forth himself within Peter's presence. "Peter, do you recognize him? Do you— do you have any idea who is he?" Bruce pointed out at the man who was now staring back at him. It felt like an ages ago where Peter found himself amused by the gesture, a surged feeling of astonishment lingering around his heart, yet— he found himself lost at his own words.

Peter looked in turn between the doctor and the man behind him, who was standing still. Feet frozen to the ground as the only sign that detecting of him still alive was the tapping sound from his tiptoe.

Was he supposed to know who that man was?

Peter squinted, watching the man closely. The side of his face stick to the soft cotton beneath his fair skin. Wait, Peter knew him. The man had a name he would always know. Right, uh, who was it? Ned? No, wait. Ned was his friend. Harry? Norman?

Tony. Yeah, that name. Oh, he knew him.

"T'ny," his voice slowly spluttering themselves with tiny shaking breath. But the doctor did not look or sounded relief at the words that escaping his barely opened lips. Bruce looked quiet taken aback, as if the calculation in his head slowly began to pull up into once conclusion. The doctor looked back at the man— who Peter just called out as Tony. But the Tony man also did not look quiet happy by him calling him that name.

Bruce came forward, he put his hand on top of his free hand. The one that had not been attached to the tubing IV. "Sorry, can you repeat again?"

His words were swollen, and dear god— Peter was so exhausted with everything. Even his breathing becoming something tiring. "Tony," this time, it became clear. His words was sharper enough for the doctor to begin notice.

"And do you know who is he?"

Peter looked at the doctor, confused. Lost. His memories became distant.

Who was this Tony man?

"I—" Peter stopped. Looking at the two people who looked like a strangers to him with expectant eyes. Noticing the weird rise and fall of Tony's chest as he squeezed his own hands hard. Clenching his teeth as his eyes showering him with disappointment.

Was he know this Tony man?

Why would he call this man Tony?

But the Doctor called this man Tony. So. . . could he assume that his name was Tony ?

He did not know. He continued, turning to Bruce, slowly— feeling strange at the tip of his tongue, ". . . .I don't know."

And he notice at that time how his world had collided into darkness. Nothing was left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that having Peter to not remember Tony is cute.  
> It is like giving Tony new opportunity for him to start a new things with Peter.  
> Also, please once again notice the timeline in the story.  
> This story is not following the MCU timeline.  
> Stay safe, stay healthy, don't panic, and don't forget to wash your hands.  
> Have a great day everyone❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤


	3. Come and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "POST-TRAUMATIC AMNESIA, is generally due to a head injury like a fall, or a knock on the head. Traumatic amnesia is often transient, but may be permanent or either anterograde, retrograde, or mixed type."
> 
> The news came like a train that struck Tony and crushed his entire internal organ. Bruce was standing in front of him with board in his hand, as he exclaiming loudly— outside the med-bay where the kid could not hear their conversation. It became like a headlights in his eyes, as he was freeze and never existed to process everything his friend had just said to him. It was blurry, but Tony knew he was there, presumably still listening to the long explanation of what Peter just experienced.

**III. COME AND GO**

❝ _i just want to sleep_  
 _and never wake up again_. ❞

━━━━━━•❃•━━━━━━  
  
  


" **POST-TRAUMATIC AMNESIA** , is generally due to a head injury like a fall, or a knock on the head. Traumatic amnesia is often transient, but may be permanent or either anterograde, retrograde, or mixed type."

The news came like a train that struck Tony and crushed his entire internal organ. Bruce was standing in front of him with board in his hand, as he exclaiming loudly— outside the med-bay where the kid could not hear their conversation. It became like a headlights in his eyes, as he was freeze and never existed to process everything his friend had just said to him. It was blurry, but Tony knew he was there, presumably still listening to the long explanation of what Peter just experienced.

The extent of the period covered by the amnesia was related to the degree of injury and may give an indication of the prognosis for recovery of other functions. Mild trauma, such as a car accident that results in no more than mild whiplash, might caused the occupant of a car to have no memory of the moments just before the accident due to a brief interruption in the short/long-term memory transfer mechanism. The sufferer may also lose knowledge of who people were. Having longer periods of amnesia or consciousness after an injury maybe an indication that recovery from remaining concussion symptoms would take much longer.

In other words: Peter would not most likely remember who Tony was.

Or everything they had been through together.

It pained Tony to the thing that he was not able to tell anymore if he was currently standing or just fell on his knees, that his bone structure was crushed to the ground by the damage his brain just processing.

Bruce noticed the glimpse of helpless in Tony's eyes as he kept himself a brief moment from reading his assumption about the kid's condition, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his bench nose as he let himself released the shudder breath. He knew how all this information would affect Tony the moment the kid said he did not remember a thing about what happened. Or about the fact that he just alarming the entire compound by his appearance at 3 a.m in the morning, causing the billionaire to come up with new several anxiety issue.

The doctor turned to see the kid who was sleeping peacefully on his bed with IV bags plastered to the back of his upper arm, the sedative was currently working itself again to give Peter Parker a sense of peace after everything— anything he had been through to walk from his place to the compound with grey sweater and pants, wet, and his head was bleeding hard it flowed to his left arm. No kid should have experienced such thing, and this kid was barely sixteen— as what Tony had said to him reluctantly after a moment of silent debating wether he should tell the truth to him.

Now, explaining everything to Tony while the man himself still got an issue about his own paranoid and panic attack, sent Bruce a bit sympathize towards him. He knew nothing about the kid who was suddenly popping out of nowhere into the compound, resulting Bruce to take care of him in the middle of his napping time from developing a new antidote. But Bruce knew many things about Tony, and losing the ones he loved had always been his fatal flew.

He walked right up to where Tony was standing, muscling a genuine smile with his eyes squinting a bit. Hands on his shoulder, because panic and self-destructive Tony was not what Bruce wanted right now when he knew nothing about the kid he had to safe.

"He's okay, Tony. Beside the amnesia, there are no serious injuries with his internal organs. Helen and I are making sure to patch him twice. He will be back as new once we can recall his memories back," his voice was barely audible, replacing with a faint smile that splashing on his recognizable facial hair.

Tony did not say anything, not even exchanging the shushing tone Bruce used to calm him down as his eyes fixed on the limping teenager who was barely remember who he was. The kid was sleeping, and Tony knew there was nothing in this world he wanted right now more than seeing his kid safe, and snoring soundly inside the med-bay. Forgetting for a while any chances that causing him trouble. But dear god above, seeing those eyes seemingly unfocused, staring at Tony like he was someone else's— _like an idiot stranger_ — making his heart shattered to the gaping hole just beneath his liver. Tony wanted to scream.

He wanted to punch anything, break someone's bones for making him witnessing yet another pain he had to bear throughout the history of Peter Parker.

He wanted to believe if what Bruce said was true.

That Peter would be okay. That this kid— _his kid_ would be back as new, like nothing ever happened. He kept monitoring the beeping monitor beside the kid's left, up near his head. The sign of the kid's heart made Tony digging back from his insanity and persuaded his own mind that Peter was still alive. That Tony was lucky he found Peter in _that kind of condition_ inside of the compound. Not somewhere in stranded place where he did not know a way out, or how to bring the kid alive out of the misery.

But still, the agony which knowing Peter would not remember him as he— as the whole Tony Stark, might have just added to his own irony of living as a Stark. Bruce's hand was still on his shoulder, giving Tony a moment of relaxation for his head not wondering around wether he had made another mistake that dragged the kid into his crazy chaotic life.

He patted back Bruce's hand, feeling the firm solid object under his sweaty palms. For a reason, Tony needed to stay on the solid ground, just so he could fix his kid. "Yeah, Bruce. Thank you."

Bruce just sighed, not the annoyed one, but kind of sympathetic one. And Tony was in the urge to not wanting any of that pity right now. He needed reasurement, he needed news, he needed new information that his brain could jolt awake by the mystery and strangled way of the case.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said after contemplating an a several minutes debating to the critical condition, roaming his brown eyes through the sheet of paper of Peter's condition. "You can stay here, though. Once the sedative is off, he will feel pain in his head due to the wound. I'll give him the painkiller that you synthesized."

Tony gave him a small nod, eyes never left Peter alone. The doctor walked into the elevator, and as F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice ringing through the room coming from the ceilings, greeting the doctor and dragging him to where he wanted to be. Tony stayed, his hands were trembling against the visible see through glass door in the med bay. Two nurses were by Peter's side, checking his IV bags and the heart monitor which signaling the way his heart pumping beneath the surface of his fair skin.

How come all of this happened just in a wave of second?

The previous minute, Tony was sure he had tried his hardest not to let the kid get involved too much into his life. With the Accords still on debating and Ross who never left him alone. He got Peter's last message of his patrols of how he was successfully dealing with robbery in 74th Street and how another nice lady offering him churros. Tony knew that the kid went to Delmar just around 3.42 p.m the other day for picking up his usual order before patrolling and how childish his voice was sounded by the sudden wave of euphoria that smashing him.

He had not been contacted with the kid for almost two weeks after the Vulture thing.

He. . . kind of, avoiding Peter for that period of time.

Because Ross suddenly decided to come out to his place and violating his own terms with the Avengers. And the old fucker just happened to monitoring every movement Tony made. But Bruce was here, after disappearing for two years since the last Sokovia thing, he managed to get back within the presence of the God of Thunder. And by the way, Thor was already gone. Saying he needed to deal with some magic spaces and he would not be able to come back for several days— or so: months. The living beings who was filling the compound was only Bruce, him, and Rhodey. Aside from that, every room was left the way their previous owners left them. Dust covering every desk, and the bedsheet.

Tony never touched them. Nor that he wanted.

Sure he was billionaire, by the snap of his fingers, he could pay anyone to clean their rooms. But stepping into their places and asking one of his employee to clean the dust, meaning something else to him. Of course later, it was Pepper who ordered some of their employees to get rid of the stack piles of dust in every room. Making sure F.R.I.D.A.Y monitoring their activities so no secrets were out from their mouth.

Now there was this little kid who would follow him like a ducklings.

Rhodey always mentioned how the kind of blinking in Peter's eyes were radiating pure love that came into a pure adoration towards the billionaire. And how Tony should not let the kid alone out in the world, knowing nothing as the man he adored so much collapsed— trying to clean up someone's mess.

The kid he thought would be safe if he was far away from him, now hurt because Tony was not there to help him, to keep him safe. And that thing stinging his heart like a sharp needle.

He braced himself to walk, entering the glass window as his step became clear and clear to the edge of Peter's bed. The two nurses who sensed his appearance nodded to each other and leaving Tony alone, after sharing a simple smile. Tony needed to note himself a thank you gift card for both of them for taking such care for the kid— his kid.

Tony looked closely at the sleeping boy on the hospital mattress just under his abdomen. Sometimes, Tony forgot how young Peter actually was because of his genius brain and his attempted to always be a mature person despite his age. Now seeing the kid being bundled up in the green blanket, with nasal cannula around his face and the only sign of the kid still alive was through the heart monitor, it hit Tony's realization that Peter was— indeed a little kid. He was sixteen, and his experienced in tasting the darkness side of the world had already made him thinking and act maturely. It was funny because age could never judging your maturity.

Take an example from the billionaire himself. Alcohol was no longer being his alternative as coping mechanism, but self-destructive was a part of him that could never be erased. He destroyed himself with sleep-deprivation, isolating himself, and drinking coffee for the rest of the day. In this momentum, he was pretty sure his heart would get swollen by any time soon.

But Peter. . . God, he was a miracle that came into Tony's life like a magic in a fairy tale.

He was perfect in every way Tony had ever wanted.

Selfless, kind, loving, and caring little boy. Sometimes he could be nerd, or a dork, or adorable. Depends on how his mood swing at the recent moment. Tony noticed as the eyelashes fell onto his cheeks, closing his eyes with magnificent view as he ruffling the kid's head, sending his warm to the boy. Until Peter opened his eyes. And those pretty round shaped of brown eyes sharing it's twinkling with him.

Peter looked a bit shock, he tingling his head to the side as he observing the man in front of him. His eyes becoming dilated with every blink he tried to adjust. "T'ny. . ." his voice was small, sheepishly, sending quiver through Tony's heart.

Tony just smile, despite he really wanted to cry. He always wanted Peter to call him by his first name, but he guessed the God granted his wish a little bit across the way. Not in this kind of situation. "Yeah, bud?"

He did not know if Peter would accept his gesture in calling him that name, he was afraid of the rejection her would receive next. But seeing how those muscles relax under his touch, making Tony felt relief.

" 'M I sleeping?" he asked, closing then opening his eyes slowly. His eyelashes smacking his cheeks every minute.

"Yeah, you were."

Then it was silent, as the kid's eyes slowly closing itself. Taking the kid away from the blinding spotlight.

Tony sighed, ever since Afghanistan, he never liked his surroundings being quiet. But for the first time in his life, Tony was glad about the silent. "Hey, bud? Bruce wants me to know if you feel any pain now. The sedative must have been started to worn off."

Peter's eyes suddenly spluttered open, as if realizing something. "Tony, there's— there's something I need to tell you. But I— I don't— I don't remember."

God, it was hurting him to watch Peter stutter under his own choice of words.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Don't force yourself. If you don't remember, don't force your memories to jog it out from you. We can do it slowly, kid."

In this kind of moment, ruffling his hand through Peter's curly hair had became a thing he would admit to like. The kid gave up under his touch, he let himself swarmed far away as his eyes became relaxed. Long into the distant.

His voice came next, barely audible to the sedative that still remained in his blood. "Tony. . . my head— _ouch_ it's aching." Peter said as his trembling hands reaching out to point at the side of his head. Tony came to notice, he took Peter's hands under his then squeezed it tightly. Making sure of Peter was still solid. And he did not just almost losing the kid.

"I know, bud. It's the sedative. I'll call Bruce, yeah?"

But before he could process to walk towards the glass door and informed Bruce, Peter grabbed the hem of his sleeves, blushing as his head lowering to the angle where his chin touched his chest. "D-don't go, please. S-stay?"

Tony just stared at him blankly before yanking himself back into the present time. All this mingled memories in Peter's head must have made him afraid, he was just being put into a new environment. Peter knew no one here, and Tony was grateful that Peter— despite the lost of his memories, still trusted Tony. Still wanted Tony to stay with him.

Was it a good sign?

He could only hope.

"Okay, bud. I'll ask F.R.I.D.AY to inform Bruce instead. I won't go anywhere."

Peter's cheeks came in a tint of pink, "t-thank you, Tony."

Lucky, Bruce came just as Peter was about to cry out his protest of his throbbing head. The headache had became unbearable that tears were slowly forming in his eyes. But the fluid that Bruce injecting through the IV, stoping the baby cry Peter just about to do.

"Feeling better?" Bruce asked, as he was checking the dropping of the IV, then proceed to write something on his clipboard. The stethoscope still circling on his neck like a little snake.

Though it still leaving Peter a good grip of pain, but now his head did not as heavy at it used. And he could practically seeing everything clearly with his vision. So Peter would just assume that he was feeling a slight better.

"Yeah, thank you, doctor Bruce."

"You are welcome. Now, if you need anything, feel free to inform F.R.I.D.A.Y, or just click the red button then the nurse will come and help you."

Peter nodded.

Tony knew the kid was alright. Seeing him thanking Bruce with his little raspy voice, half awake due to the drugs they injected to help him feeling nothing throughout the surgery. It still did nothing to affect Tony with the amnesia thing.

The kid was lucky because Bruce was there when Tony needed him. Because of Peter's enhanced DNA, he could not just bring the kid into any hospital or his secret would get spilled. And thousands, hundreds papparazi outhere was ready with their flashing cameras to get to know their favorite vigilante hero more. Which Tony absolutely hated the idea. He had made mental note that the kid would not be in contact with anything regarding the press until he was old enough to handle such things. Plus, all Peter ever wanted was to protect his aunt. And Tony had to be there to help the kid.

That was why he had been avoiding Peter lately after the Vulture.

Because Ross could easily get the grip of the kid if he spotted Tony with the kid.

And dear Thor's beard, that was the last thing Tony wanted the kid to experienced with. The image of Wanda in those cold cell, overwhelming his mind everytime he thought about the possibility of Ross could get in touch with his kid. Tony did not want that.

He would protect this kid even if it meant he had to break the law.

"Tony?"

The voice was breaking the tension with long and sharp breath as the glass door slid open, displaying a black skinned man, walking wobbly through Tony's direction with his bracelet legs as his eyes darted far into Tony's hazel eyes. Both of them who was noticing the other presence turned their head to the man who slowly, while stumbling his way into their spot. While Peter still could not slip into the despair of his lost memories, he looked at the man— fear was not something that sparked between those brilliant honey eyes.

"Hi, Peter," the man waved a single hand gesture towards him and Peter could not think about anything rather than shyly smiling back though his head did not require him with any possible outcome of who he was. "I'm Rhodey, Colonel James Rhodes," he stared slowly, words cooling slowly out of his lips as he put every words into the acceptable once. "I'm Tony's friend."

But for a teenager who just lost his memories?

Everything could not be less scarier than founding themselves in the place they did not know any better.

However, Peter nodded. Water layering his very thin rounded eyes as he shared a look with Tony who was just standing at the edge of his bed. God, the more Tony looked at him, the more his heart vibrating with guilt rising up to his chest.

"What's up, Rhodes?" Tony asked, casually shoving his hands down to his pocket jeans while scanning his friend from top to bottom, as if something was missing and he was the only one could find the missing pieces.

Rhodes— or Rhodey, which whatever the man preferred to be called, did not immediately answer, his eyes moving back and forth while sharing a small smile to both of them.

"I need to talk to you about something."

Tony glanced at Peter who seemed to notice the importance behind Rhodey's words of talking in private. He kinda surprised when Peter nodded, allowing Tony to go with his friends— but his eyes never once left Tony. He gave Peter one last rubbing on his head before going behind the glass door, out from Peter's sight and his enhanced hearing— though he still did not quiet sure if the kid remember anything at all about him being Spider-Man.

It came like a slow motion, but Rhodey handed him a piece of newspaper— and on the headline, appeared in a capital words, something that caught his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> How is it? I am not sure I'm satisfied with it either.  
> Wattpad: https://w.tt/2xs0vx6


End file.
